


Possible (1/39?)

by Mexta



Series: Possible [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, post-412
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 04:03:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mexta/pseuds/Mexta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I can take care of him," Mickey said, and he meant it.  Now he's figuring out what that means.  For Ian, and for himself.  A Shameless US Mickey/Ian series, covering the time between 412 and the beginning of season 5.  Updates weekly, on Sundays.</p><p>NOTE:  Formerly titled "Impossible".  I noticed there are several other recent Shameless US fics with that title so I  renamed mine to "Possible".  Since I ultimately want to focus on the positive, I think the new title works for my story.  My apologies for any confusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Possible (1/39?)

** Possible **

Part 1

"Hey, Ian ... " Mickey slid onto the bed more gingerly this time, and stared at Ian's unmoving back. "You don't need to tell me to fuck off. I'm not gonna give you a hard time."

He waited for a minute, just in case Ian wanted to tell him anyway. Ian's breathing was too light and shallow for him to be sleeping, but he didn't say anything.

Mickey turned onto his back. "Just wanna tell you it's okay. I know you're not feeling so hot right now. It's okay, you can stay here as long as you want. I'm not gonna make you go anywhere you don't want to. We can take care of you right here. Okay?"

He stopped and waited again but as usual Ian didn't answer. "Aren't ya hungry? I can bring something in here if you want. A sandwich?" Still nothing. Big surprise. "Okay. I ain't gonna push you. You want some time to just lie low, it's fine by me."

Mickey pushed himself up on an elbow and looked down at Ian's still form. Too still; he must have stopped breathing. Good. That meant he was listening. Mickey lifted a hand, let it hover over Ian's hair for a second, then dropped it again.

"Only thing is, I gotta sleep in here too. Okay? Svetlana, she'll sleep in the living room with the kid for now. But I gotta share this bed. We ain't gonna do anything, I know. You don't have to talk to me. I'll just be here to sleep."

That was probably enough for now. Mickey shut himself up. Didn't want to annoy the kid again. He pushed himself up to lean against the headboard, reached instinctively for a cigarette, then stopped himself. But he couldn't stop himself from saying one more thing.

"I promise," he said, looking down at the red hair beside him. "I'm not gonna let them take you anywhere. I won't make you do anything you don't wanna do."

This time he waited until he saw the faint rise and fall under the sheet that told him Ian had started breathing again. After a while he pushed himself off the bed and looked around the room, frowning.

If Ian was going to spend that much time in here, might as well make it more comfortable. He went round the bed, slid open the window to let a little air in, and dragged the curtains across the panes. Then he picked up the various ashtrays and beer bottles scattered around the room, and after a couple of minutes of thought, all the knives and blades he could find. He tossed everything into the drawer with his guns, pulled the drawer out, and took it into Mandy's room.

"Here," he said, dropping the whole thing onto her bed. He dug out the ashtrays and bottles, then nodded at the rest. "Got somewhere you can lock this shit up?"

She glanced inside, then looked at him and nodded without speaking.

"Don't let Kenyatta at it," he said over his shoulder as he went out.

In the kitchen, he emptied the ashtrays and washed them. No sign of Svetlana and the baby, so maybe she was off making nice with the trumpet-player. Mickey heated some frozen food, ate, and then went outside to smoke on the porch.

 _Fuck_. With Terry locked up, his brothers and Kenyatta out, the whole house was silent. How long had he waited for a chance like this, to be all alone and _free_ with Ian? Lot of good it did him now.

He sat outside on the steps for a long time, nursing a beer, till the sun went down and the faint wail of sirens in the distance told him the night had started. When he went back into the bedroom, Ian's breathing was deep and regular. Mickey lifted the blankets on his side and slid under, taking care not to brush against Ian. That was the deal, wasn't it? He'd keep his end of it anyway.


End file.
